


Stripped

by appleblossomgirl



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-16 18:03:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9283661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appleblossomgirl/pseuds/appleblossomgirl
Summary: Canon-divergent, in that none of our District 12 favorites were reaped.With Prim's life hanging in the balance, desperation forces Katniss to consider the unthinkable. What she finds instead is help and friendship in some unexpected places. Not to mention, a certain blond baker's son with a kind heart and some surprising dance moves.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This was my submission to 2016 ms2sl. I’m so excited to be part of such a meaningful effort. Thanks so much to the organizers for making fundraising to fight cancer such a delight! There are quotes directly from canon sprinkled about throughout the story. Everlasting gratitude to Xerxia for her amazing support and incredible betaing skills.
> 
> Rated E for adult situations and sexual content.
> 
> Trigger warnings: I’m always so worried about missing trigger warnings, but here are my best guesses: discussions of/allusions to both reluctant prostitution (both male-female and male-male) and forced sadomasochistic activities (none depicted); guys stripping for money.

The sound of the gravel under my feet felt impossibly far away. The shivering had started a few hundred feet back and now I couldn’t stop shaking. Anguish for what I was about to do, trickled like ice water through my veins. I thought I might be sick, felt the bile clawing its way up my throat, but squeezed my eyes shut and swallowed it back down. I forced my small, measured steps forward; if I stopped now, I’d never get my feet started again. Desperation, true desperation, forces us to do unthinkable things. We do them because the alternative is so unendurably heartbreaking that there really is no choice.

I thought of Prim, lips blue, the sound her shallow, labored breaths making me lightheaded with terror. She had caught the pneumonia from Mrs. Fairborne and it had taken up residence in her frail lungs like it would go down with the ship rather than be fought off. And Prim’s malnourished body scarcely had any fight left. 

My mother had tried everything in her arsenal of knowledge, but the fathomless blackness that seemed to swallow the blue of her eyes told me everything I needed to know. 

“What does she need?” I had asked quietly from the kitchen table as my mother stared vacantly into her empty teacup. 

“Something we don’t have. Antibiotics. From the Capitol.” I could feel the despondency pulling her down into that bottomless pit inside her. She’d clawed her way out once, but I was pretty sure if she gave in this time, it would swallow her whole. And when I dared to look into those eyes, I feared it would suck me in too. The last time she’d sacrificed Prim’s and my childhood in the exchange, we didn’t have much left to barter with. 

“How much?” I demanded through clenched teeth, knowing the handful of coins I had saved wouldn’t be nearly enough.

“A hundred,” she whispered, never looking up from her cup. My heart bottomed out as I realized I had eighteen coins and no more.

The screech of the chair legs as I pushed myself violently away from the table jarred her out of her stupor. 

“Order it. I’ll be back in the morning.”

She didn’t ask, just nodded and lost herself in whatever vision lay at the bottom of her cup. I both loved her and hated her for not asking how.

I had tiptoed into my mother’s room and quietly raised the lid of her trunk, something I hadn’t done since I was ten years old and used to play dress up. I stared at my mother’s dresses; colorful, silky remnants of the merchant girl she had been before my father stole her heart. With my head pounding, I pushed them aside until I found the deep maroon satin one that my mother had called a negligé, a color nearly as deep as the stain of her cheeks as she had pulled it off of my ten-year-old frame, telling me that one wasn’t for play. 

What had been a pretty dress in my child’s mind, was significantly shorter and tighter on me now. Despite the fact that I was still small and thin, the lacey fabric clung to my modest breasts and hips, barely covering my ass before the lace trim ended high on my thighs. I closed my eyes and took a slow breath in through my nose to calm myself at the thought of how much of my skin this sad-excuse of a garment left for Cray’s glazed eyes and groping hands. 

I focused on Prim and the image of her healthy and happy. Unbidden, the vision of her frail, feverish body flashed before me and I grabbed a long, gray coat with pearly buttons out of the trunk, pulling it on over my near nakedness. The coat was far too thin for the chill of the night, and only went to my knees, but it would have to do. I slipped into a pair of her silken slippers, ridiculous footwear, but my worn hunting boots wouldn’t do. 

I strode purposely thought the living room and out the front door without meeting my mother’s eyes. It was better that way. 

I quickly stopped by Gale’s house, foregoing the front door to tap lightly on his window. When he swung it open, looking sleepy and confused, I quickly whispered, “Prim is worse. I’m going to Cray.” I couldn’t meet his eyes as I forced myself to continue, “If I’m not here in the morning, make sure you collect the money from him.” 

“What the fuck, Katniss. Wait!” he whisper-barked as I shoved myself away from his window and started hurrying towards town as quickly as my slipper-clad feet would allow.

Gale knew what I meant. Cray, despite being the middle-aged head Peacekeeper, was infamous for paying for the use of young women’s bodies. The fact that prostitution was illegal in District 12 didn’t seem to faze him. He was rumored to pay extra for virgins. And there had been whispered insinuations amongst the impoverished, starving women of the Seam that he paid a premium for virgins who let him do unspeakable things to them. Things that involved manacles and whips and blood. I shuddered at the thought and swallowed down the bile that rose in my throat. I would swallow my terror, my pride, consume my very self if it meant Prim could live.

As I approached the town square, my gait slowed of its own accord. My teeth started to chatter. I still had a few moments before I had to queue up with the other desperate ones to await Cray’s favor. I knew he would choose me. He had made no secret of his interest, which seemed to inflame with every passing year that I refused.

I ducked into a nearby alley, to steady my breathing, as it had become so high and tight in my chest that I was feeling light headed. I closed my eyes and leaned against the rock wall of the alley, focusing on the feel of the cold, rough stone against my hands. 

I felt him before I heard his tentative, “Katniss? Are you alright?”

Peeta Mellark, in all of his golden, blue-eyed glory stood in front of me, several of his town friends standing a few paces away. He was leaning down, his kind face just inches from mine and I had the irrational urge to bury my face in his broad chest and wrap myself in the warmth that was radiating off of him. I had adored Peeta for years, but had never allowed myself to imagine losing myself in those feelings before.

“Katniss?” His voice was quiet, but resonant. He reached out and gripped both of my upper arms in his large hands and warmth radiated from that point of contact through my body, infusing me with the strength to meet his eyes. They were luminous in the moonlight filtering down into the alley and I thought that if I could just hold on to the kindness reflected in those eyes as I endured whatever the next few hours brought, I might survive it. 

I heard the scrape of Cray’s door opening and turned towards the noise. Peeta’s grip on my arm tightened as he whispered, “Katniss, you shouldn’t be out here…” All at once he seemed to take in my appearance, my thin, decorative coat, my ridiculous slippers. And when he looked at me, I became acutely aware of how little I had on under this coat. I felt the textured lace rub against my tightening nipples and brush against the hot skin of my thighs. I felt how desperately my body wanted to bridge the distance between us.

But that was madness, and I had Prim to think of now. “I have to go, Peeta.” I whispered and wrenched my arms away from him. 

He called after me and looked as though he would follow, but then Gale was there, blocking the end of the alley. He was breathing hard and as he grasped my shoulders pushing me back into walled area, I felt none of the warmth. I looked back at Peeta, who was still hovering a few feet away and pleaded with him, “Please, Peeta, just go.”

Peeta hesitated, obviously reluctant to leave, but Gale said softly, “I got her.” Peeta nodded and walked slowly back to his friends.

“Gale, move. I have to go.” My voice was brittle.

“No.” He shook his head vigorously.

“Gale, I thought you of all people would understand.” I was furious at him for making this harder. I had been stripped of my choices and now I was being stripped of my dignity. The least he could do was look away.

“I do understand, believe me. I just can’t bear it. Not you, Catnip, not like this.” He swallowed hard and looked away, over my shoulder. “I have an idea, please just promise me you’ll wait a few minutes.” 

I watched over Gale’s shoulder as Cray led another dark haired girl into gaping maw of his lair and I shuddered at the loss of my last hope and the violent relief that surged through me. 

Gale ran off in the other direction, and, thankfully, Peeta and his friends had moved on. I slumped against the wall, feeling like I’d never have the energy to move again. 

Haymitch Abernathy, District 12’s only surviving Victor and one of its most dedicated drunks, stumbled into the alley. Despite him being one of the most famous people in our district, I knew almost nothing of him. In fact, other than the few times I had seen him buying white liquor from Ripper at the Hob, I seldom remembered he was there. As I stalked towards him, I considered my chances. He could have had his choice of any woman in the district. And he chose solitude. Not solitude – that sounds too peaceful. More like solitary confinement. But everyone got lonely sometimes, right? And I could actually see his pocket bulging with coin.

I followed him down a side street towards the train station, until he stopped and slumped against a wall with his head bowed. He barely glanced up at my approach. I planted my feet in front of him and I tore open my coat, brandishing my lace-covered body, painfully aware of every jut and angle of my bony frame. But he was drunk and I was here, that had to count for something.

Not even affording me a cursory look, he sneered, “What the hell is that about?”

My teeth threatened to start chattering again, whether it was from my lack of clothing or my mortification, I wasn’t sure. I clenched my jaw and murmured, “I need money.” My words were coarse and I belatedly planted my hand on my hip and assumed what I hoped was a provocative pose. 

“What for?” he asked, his eyes never leaving my face.

“My sister,” I croaked. “She’s sick.” My teeth were still clenched so tight my jaw ached. 

“She that little blond girl? Works with your mama?” He asked, gesturing towards the Seam with his chin. His awareness of my family perplexed me, but I nodded, tipping my head back slightly to keep the tears that were fogging my eyes from falling. 

For a brief moment his eyes bore into mine, and the one thought that shot through my mind was “Seam.” Then he glanced away, gesturing for me to cover myself up.

“No offense, but your seduction routine needs work. Scratch that, it’s just not really your thing.” I scowled at him, horrified to be rejected so summarily. “On the other hand, if there’s a market for looks that kill, you’d make a quick million. But I guess all your patrons would be dead.” He chuckled at his own joke, “No repeat patrons. Bad business plan.” His chuckle turned into a deep, rattling cough.

“Nope, sweetheart, looks like you’re gonna have to think your way out of this one. That skinny carcass of yours isn’t up to the task.” He stumbled to the right, bracing himself before pushing off from the wall. 

“I know. I was hoping," I said.

"Exactly. Because you're desperate," said Haymitch.

I didn’t argue because, of course, he was right.

He dug through his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins. My face blazed with humiliation, and the pathetic hope that surged through me at the sight of it. “I’ve got thirteen, lucky number just for you.” I wondered what thirteen coins should entitle him to and it must have shown on my face because he shook his head in disgust. “I thought I made myself clear, girl, I don’t want anything you’ve got to sell. The money’s yours.” I reached for them, not trusting my luck, but he snatched them back, belying quick reflexes that were startling for his age and state of inebriation. “Promise that you won’t tell anyone that I helped you. I’ve got a reputation to protect,” he growled at me and I nodded frantically. As he emptied the coins into my cupped hands, he mumbled, “And if Ripper won’t serve me on my good credit, I may need you to barter some of those squirrels of yours for a bottle or two towards the end of the month.” I continued to nod, willing to agree to anything he said if allowed me to keep the coat on and fill its pocket with coin. Besides, a trade was something I could get behind. It was charity that made me nervous.

As I scurried back towards the town center, I fingered one of the coins. It made me sick that my precious sister’s life could be bartered for metal disks. The Capitol had something that could save her, but kept it from us unless we were willing to debase ourselves to meet their price. It was the most depraved currency imaginable. Scratch that, these were the same people that extorted us for our children each year for the Games. The injustice of it turned my stomach. 

When I arrived back in the square, Gale was already there, looking frantic. When he saw me, he pulled me roughly into the alley.

“What the hell, Catnip! I told you to wait there.” He was clutching my shoulders a little too hard, his eyes frenzied as they took a visual inventory of me. I had seldom seen him this unsettled. “I thought.... Nevermind,” he trailed off into a mumble.

“I’m fine.” I shifted my shoulders to get him to let go. He immediately loosened his grip, looking contrite. “I saw Abernathy.” I didn’t want to talk about my run in with Haymitch, I still felt like I hadn’t entirely understood our conversation. 

“Oh,” Gale looked away, “Did he…?”

“No. He was a perfect gentleman. Or as much as a slobbering drunk that can barely stand up can be.” I clutched the coins in my pocket, not wanting them to jingle. I had no idea how to explain our transaction. 

“Good,” Gale nodded and I heard a snort from somewhere behind him as his friend Thom emerged from the shadows, apparently finding the description of Haymitch amusing. 

“Hey, Katniss,” he said, still chuckling.

“Gale?” I demanded. This was humiliating enough without Gale telling his friends about it. 

Gale held his hands out in supplication as he said, “Sorry, Thom’s here to help. I’ll explain when we get there. Just follow me, okay?” Since it was dangerous being out so late, we stuck to the alleyways as we wound our way back towards the Seam.

We stopped at one of the first houses that lay on the town-Seam border, just past where the road turned from dirt to cobblestone. It was a town house, but just barely. I recognized it as Leevy’s new house. Leevy had been my neighbor growing up, but was now married to the widowed Tanner. It was seldom talked about as he was in his fifties and had married Leevy seemingly without any courtship or celebration, and she had been known to be intended for Thom. As we crept up her back porch, I glanced at him, wondering if this was difficult for him. I also realized that I had wondered about Leevy and how she was, but that it had been washed away in a flood of my own worries.

Thom knocked softly and Gale and I waited together a step below. The warm glow of lantern light spilled down the stairs as she pulled the door open. 

“Thom,” she looked nervously at him before glancing behind to us.

“Sorry, Leevy. You have a minute?”

She nodded and ushered us inside, glancing behind us anxiously.

Leevy went straight to the bedroom, calling quietly that everything was fine. I was surprised to see Rye Mellark, the Baker’s middle son walk out of the room. He glanced over at Thom, Gale and I before sitting down by the fire and pulling Leevy into his lap.

I looked away. I didn’t actually care what Leevy and Rye were doing together, but didn’t think I could keep the judgmental embarrassment off of my face. “Why are we here?” I hissed at Gale.

Thom answered. “Leevy has been running a strip club at the Hob on Saturday nights. I thought she might be willing to help you out with your… situation.”

I glanced incredulously from Leevy to Thom to Gale. Gale stared back at me shrugging as he said, “It seemed like the lesser of evils, Catnip.”

Through my indignation, I remembered Prim’s blue lips and rasping breaths. I remembered I didn’t have the luxury of indignation. I nodded slowly. I turned to see Rye whispering something to Leevy before slipping out of the room, and then seconds later the house. 

I was desperate to follow him, but had nowhere to go where Prim’s labored breaths wouldn’t follow me. Turning to Leevy, I asked, “Can you help me?”

She quirked her mouth to the side and said, “I’m always looking for new girls and you’d be a welcome addition.” I hated the desperation that clawed at me, but if this didn’t work out, there was always Cray. The thought made my skin crawl. Lesser of two evils indeed. 

Leevy continued, “I generally start new girls off with ten percent of the door or up to ten coins on a good night.” I shook my head, that wasn’t enough. “Look,” Leevy said, heaving a sigh, “I can’t payout more than I make.” That made sense, but it still wasn’t enough. I turned to leave, feeling as raw as an open wound. It was hopeless.

Gale caught me just before I reached the door. He pulled me out the side door into the small yard. “You can’t give up like that, Catnip. This is a negotiation. I know everything about this makes you uncomfortable, I get it, but you have to try to make this work.”

“Have you ever stripped for a roomful of disgusting men?” I hissed at him.

“No.” He looked away from me into the darkness. “Just one.” His voice was barely a whisper. I stood stock still, like I would with a spooked animal, but my eyes felt as big as saucers. He leaned against the building so we wouldn’t have to look at each other and I was grateful for both our sakes. “Remember a couple of years ago when Vick broke that window at the grocer’s?” Of course I did, I had thought Gale was going to skin his brother alive. It was an incredibly expensive window. I knew Gale had worked extra shifts in the mine and assumed he had somehow made enough to cover it. “Well, I couldn’t make enough in the mine to keep him out of jail.” He scrubbed his hand over his face and continued, “Leevy came to me and explained that her new husband was... well, he likes boys. That their marriage was a front for him and an opportunity for her to escape the Seam. She told me he’d pay good money.” His voice faltered and I reached for his hand in the dark, wanting him to stop talking, but knowing I couldn’t ask. He squeezed it tight and said, “I let him suck me off and he paid off our debt to the grocer. It was a stroke of luck, really, but,” he dropped my hand, “it kind of fucked me up. I don’t want you to have to go through that, Catnip. If I could think of another way, you know I would do it. We need to figure out how to make this work.”

“That’s --” what could I possible say? I hated that he’d been through something like that and it made a lot of other things make sense. There had been a time, a couple of years after I aged out of the reaping, that I had feared Gale was going to ask me to marry him. As much as marriage wasn’t something I had the slightest interest in, it seemed strange when his attentions shifted so decisively away from me. Since Gale and I weren’t really talkers, I had assumed he had read my reluctance, turned his affections to someone more receptive. I had never imagined he’d had to do something so debasing. In fact, I don’t think I even knew men did things like that. But I hated that it made his shoulders slump and caused his voice to sound ragged with pain. So I whispered the only thing I could think of, “I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t want your pity,” he bit out, sounding angrier than I expected. “I want to figure out how to spare you from feeling like this. I’ll go to Leevy’s husband again if I have to, to keep you safe from Cray.” 

“No. You know I’d never ask you -” He cut me off as he swung around to grab my shoulders. 

“I know that, Catnip.”

“But ten isn’t enough, Gale. I can’t lose Prim.” 

“I know. Let’s go in and see what we can come up with.” He slung a long arm around my shoulder to herd me back into the house. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” How could I possible refuse, when I understood the lengths he would go to to help me.

When we re-entered the sitting room, I almost ran right back out. Rye was back, with Leevy perched on his knee, but several more chairs arranged around the fire were now inhabited by Peeta, Madge and Delly.

I froze mid-step, and Gale bumped into me from behind. I shot an accusatory glance at Leevy and she just shrugged. “Rye said they wanted to help.”

As soon as he caught sight of me, Peeta stood, offering me his seat. Even through the potent fog of fear, worry and frustration, I felt a zing of excitement when I met his electric blue eyes. It had been like this for years. Sometime around my seventeenth birthday, after Gale had started working full-time in the mines, I took over the weekly trades with the Baker. And sometime during that year, Peeta began answering the bakery door in place of his father. The startling difference between catching glimpses of him from behind his father and being confronted full-on with his morning-tousled curls, cheeks flushed from the heat of the ovens, his kind smile had shifted something inside me. It had opened a crack that made my stomach flutter uncomfortably on trading days. And on the morning that he asked if he could walk Prim and I to school, the crack had widened into a fissure of longing that made me slow my pace to catch a lingering view of him in the hallways at school. By the time I turned eighteen, it had become a chasm, hot and deep and full of desperate longing. I always felt a throb of desire whenever his sky-blue eyes met mine. 

As always, this wasn’t the time to indulge in staring at his broad shoulders or his skin the color of warm honey. With significant effort, I tore my eyes away from him.

Delly Cartwright waved enthusiastically at me as I took a place leaning against the wall. Madge tilted her head in greeting, but continued with what she was saying. “What if you offered some kind of contest? You know, like the winner gets a kiss from the girl of his choice?” 

Rye snorted and Leevy explained, “I don’t think a kiss will cut it. The men who can afford to pay for this type of entertainment generally expect something in return. Let’s just say, there’s a lot of groping involved.” My stomach clenched, and we were back to this conversation, but now we got to have it in a crowded living room. I should have just gone to Cray and avoided this extra humiliation. 

Gale threw in a suggestion. “How about some sort of bare-knuckled fight at intermission. Let them get their violence from something more direct.” 

“Who’d want to watch a bunch of naked guys fighting each other?” Rye sneered at Gale. There had never been any love lost between Gale and the Rye. 

“Who the fuck said anything about guys being naked? Anything you want to tell us, Mellark?” Gale sneered right back. I rolled my eyes, glancing over at Madge to silently mock them, but caught Peeta’s eyes instead. I felt the magnetic pull of his gaze and didn’t manage to pull away quite as quickly as last time. 

“I would,” giggled Delly. Then she started flapping her hands like was trying to take flight. She jumped out of the chair, blond curls bouncing and shouted, “That’s it!”

“What’s it, Delly? The fight?” Madge was trying to avoid getting slapped by Delly’s enthusiasm.

“No, the naked guys!” Everyone groaned and turned away from her, but Delly kept bouncing and chirping excitedly. “Not for the guys, obviously. Who else has money to spend on the occasional party or entertainment, besides the town boys?” She looked around expectantly. “The town girls! And I can guarantee that they would throw down their birthday money to watch some of you boys take off your clothes.” She was giggling and pointing around the room. 

Everyone was looking at each other incredulously until all eyes landed on Madge. She was nodding thoughtfully. “She’s not wrong.” 

Rye jumped up and pulled his shirt up over his head, striking a pose in front of the fireplace. “All you needed to do was ask, ladies.” 

“Not you, Rye,” Delly said, rolling her eyes. “Them.” She was pointing straight at Gale and Thom. Gale looked at me in surprise. I shrugged. This all sounded completely insane to me. 

As Rye grumpily pulled his shirt back on, Delly and Madge explained that the guiltiest pleasure among the oh-so-proper town girls was to ogle and fantasize about the Seam men that emerged from the mines every afternoon. 

“I mean, it’s like a parade of hot, sweaty, dirty men that are totally off limits.” Delly bit her lip and described the men who were basically enslaved to the Capitol trudging through town every evening on way back from mines. All I saw in those guys were the stooped backs and squinting eyes and endless piles of blackened laundry that ended up in Hazelle’s washbasin. That, and Gale’s spirit leaching away like the color from an over-washed shirt, with each passing day spent underground. 

Thom piped up, “I’d do it.” He looked to Gale who shrugged one shoulder and nodded., “Beats the alternative. I bet MIca’d be in. And maybe Chester?” 

“Can you dance?” Delly asked, cocking her eyebrow at Gale.

“Sure. What does that have to do with anything?” He looked so suspicious, I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling.

“Well, you can’t just stand up there and shuck your clothes.” Delly stood and started swaying her hips. “You’ve got to strip. Like, to music. It has to be a show!” She looked at Leevy for support and Leevy nodded. 

She walked to the television and switched it on to a Capitol station that no one ever watched. While the picture was fuzzy, there was a beat-heavy song playing as background. Leevy began to dance sinuously as she slowly unbuttoned her sweater and slid it off her shoulders. “It’s got to be a seduction,” she called out over the music. 

She stalked over to where Gale was leaning against the wall and grabbed both of his hands. She led him around the various chairs and began to sway in front of him. He began to move his shoulders. Leevy shook her head, “No, from the hips.” She placed her hands on his hips and began to direct them.

Delly piped up, “Peeta can show you, he’s a great dancer. Right, Peeta?” 

Peeta stood and looked at me, “I’ll help however I can. For Prim.” And if I hadn’t been completely in love with him before, I was now. Hopelessly, achingly.

It took me a moment to pull myself back into the conversation. Delly had taken charge. She was talking about costumes and decorations and how best to spread the word. As much as I’d never thought very highly of her, I had to grudgingly admit that she was really good at this. 

Gale looked over at me and shook his head, looking incredulous. “This is completely insane.” I nodded in agreement. I was exhausted, and it was starting to become apparent that this was getting away from me. I needed this money to take care of my family, but it had nothing to do with any of them. How was I going to repay all these people? 

Then Peeta was propped against the wall beside me. Not touching, but close enough that I could the feel the heat of him even in the warm room. I had the frantic urge to bury my face in his warmth and feel those strong arms wrap around me. I felt my face heat and feared he could see every desperate thing about me written on my face. 

“I know this sounds questionable, but believe it or not, Delly knows what she’s talking about. If there had been a class in school on being boy-crazy, Delly would have aced it.” He quirked an eyebrow at me before adding, “She also helps a lot with her parent’s business. I’ve known her all my life, and I swear she’s not as silly as she comes across.”

I nodded; that actually made sense. “It’s not that. It’s just, why? Why is she helping? Why are you?” 

He looked down. “Why wouldn’t we? Your sister is a lovely person. Everyone likes Prim.” I couldn’t argue with that logic. She was the sweetest, kindest person in District 12. She was beautiful inside and out. When she had made it through her last Reaping, it seemed as though everyone had breathed a sigh of relief. I has assumed it was mostly because of her skills as a healer, but it was probably more than that too. It was hard to be around her and not want wonderful things for her. The horror of her illness, that I could still lose her rose up my throat, threatening to choke me. 

“I have to go home,” I croaked, afraid I would do something crazy, like start to cry in Leevy’s livingroom.

“Can I walk you?” Peeta asked, looking concerned.

“No, I’m fine. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” When you teach my friends and neighbors how to striptease. This really was madness. 

Gale and Thom were slipping on their coats as Leevy added, “Talk to Chester and Mica and anyone else you think might-”

“Asher,” Madge blurted out, blushing, referring to a particularly handsome boy our age that, despite his Seam coloring, had dark blue eyes and dimples. “Make sure you ask him.”

Delly was fanning herself as she added, “Yes, him for sure.” 

I thanked everyone, promising to come back early tomorrow to help get everything ready for the “performance”. Gale and Thom worked the early shift in the mines tomorrow, so they arranged to meet us as soon as they got off. 

“Be sure to have all of the guys keep their mining clothes on,” Delly instructed.

“But they’ll be filthy,” Thom objected.

“Exactly.” Delly was biting her lip with such a lecherous look in her eyes, that I started to understand how this might actually work.

Gale, Thom and I walked home in silence. Thom broke off a few houses before mine. When we reached my porch, Gale grabbed my hand and I thanked him for everything. I yawned and squeezed his hand. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay you guys.”

Gale shook his head, “Every one of us is indebted to your mom and Prim for something. Even if we’ve paid them something paltry for their medical help, it is nowhere near what is owed. Besides,” he stepped lightly on my foot with his gigantic boot, “don’t tell Delly, but it might be kind of fun to be lusted over by a room full of town girls for a night.”

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t keep the small smile from pulling the corner of my mouth up. “See you in a few hours, pervert.”

As I quietly slipped in the front door, I was startled to see my mom sitting at the kitchen table in essentially the same position I’d left her in the night before. She was wringing a cloth napkin in her hands as I dropped the coins from Haymitch on the table. She didn’t look up as she choked out, “Oh, Katniss.” She gripped the cloth until her knuckles were white, then pursed her lips and nodded, scooping the money off of the table. “How much do we have?”

I wanted to explain, to tell her I hadn’t done what I knew she was assuming, what I had thought I would have to resort to. But then I remembered I wasn’t entirely out of the woods yet and kept my explanation to myself. “Thirty-five.”

“We still need-”

I cut her off, “I know, I’ll get it.”

She looked at me with a new kind of pain her eyes, a shade of anguish I’d never seen there before. Then she closed those blue eyes that were the exact shade as Prim’s and whispered, “Thank you.” 

She slipped on her shoes and pulled her shawl around her frail shoulders. “I’ll go call on Mayor Undersee. Hopefully he’ll be willing to take this as partial payment up front and put in the order with our agreement that we’ll pay the rest on delivery. The train will be here Sunday afternoon.”

Thin gray light was just starting to filter into the room as I shed the red neglige and yanked my wool nightgown on before slipping into bed beside a feverish Prim. She seemed even smaller and I curled against her, lightly kissing the top of her sweaty head. As I surrendered to exhaustion, I resolved to fix this, to help her however I could.

When I woke a few hours later, the sun was streaming in through our bedroom window. For a moment I thought her mangy cat, Buttercup, was lying atop her chest, before I realized that the purring sound was coming from Prim. I sat up, panic coursing through me.

My mother was there, holding a cool cloth to Prim’s brow. “Her lungs are filling with fluid,” my mother explained. “If we don’t get the medicine soon, she’ll drown.” I recoiled. How could someone drown in their own body? How could this be happening to Prim?

My mother, seemingly unconcerned by my distress continued, “I was able to collect payment from several patients this morning. It wasn’t much, another eight coins, but Mr. Undersee made the order for us. Hopefully Prim can hang on until the train comes.”

I kissed Prim softly on the brow and whispered, “Hear that, little duck? The medicine is coming and all you have to do is keep fighting for a few more hours. I know you’re doing the best you can, but you need to keep it up just a little longer.”

I pulled on my clothes and headed over to Leevy’s house. I snatched the neglige off of the floor and slipped it on under my tunic. It would save time if this all fell apart and I needed to resort to other tactics.

I took a quick detour into the woods to collect some strawberries. It was a small token, but I knew how much Madge enjoyed them, and I figured Delly and Leevy might like them as well. As I kneeled amongst the low-growing plants, smelling their subtle fragrance, I let my mind drift to Peeta. I wondered if he liked strawberries. I bet he did. The thought of placing a juicy, red fruit against his soft pink lips, watching his tongue lick the juice from them, sent a throb of longing through me. It wasn’t the first time I’d had thoughts like this about him. It was his lips, his eyes, that I envisioned each time I slipped my hand into my underclothes. Each time I’d shudder in pleasure, it was his name on my lips. 

I was tempted to do exactly that right now, laying in a bed of strawberries. But I needed to get to Leevy’s and I was worried that Peeta would somehow see traces of my desire for him on my skin. As I slipped back under the fence, I felt that persistent throb where it had settled distractingly between my legs. Damn, this was going to be a long day.

When I got to Leevy’s it was nearly midday, but she was just getting up and still wearing her rumpled sleep clothes. 

Yawning, she told me to start gathering the things she’d laid out on the table into a box while she got dressed. There were gauzy scarves, a stack of bed sheets, rope, a make up box, several lanterns and a couple bottles of wine. I added the satchel full of strawberries to the top of the box as Leevy emerged from her bedroom.

As we walked towards the Hob, she kept glancing at me nervously. I looked down into the box as I cleared my throat and said, “Thank you, Leevy. I don’t know how to repay you for your help.” 

She swished her hand in a dismissive gesture, “This is a great deal for me. If this works, I get cut of the door, and get to keep my clothes on for the night. Not to mention getting to enjoy Hawthorne naked.” She winked at me and I shook my head. “I suppose that’s nothing new for you.” She stated it matter of factly, but I knew it was a question.

“It's not like that between us. It never has been.”

“Maybe not for you…”

I shrugged, “Maybe he wanted something more once, but not anymore.” 

Leevy looked unconvinced, but then blurted out, “My marriage isn’t real. I’m not cheating on him. He doesn’t want me. It was just an arrangement.”

“Yeah, Gale told me.” I didn’t know why she cared what I thought, but it was obvious that she wanted me to understand. She nodded and seemed to want to say more, but we’d arrived at the Hob. I felt vaguely embarrassed as we walked past Greasy Sae and Ripper’s stalls, like they could tell what we were up to. But I knew they would avert their eyes and let me go about whatever I needed to do. They understood desperation. They understood the lengths we had to go through to take care of our own.

Leevy led me to a back corner where broken tables, pallets and general disarray dominated. She began to drag things against the walls. I dropped the box and helped her. She took the pallets and arranged them so they were woven together into a low scaffolding about two feet high. We were just trying to wrestle a large sheet of plywood onto the pallet when Peeta appeared at my side, lifting the burden out of my hands. I watched as Rye did the same to Leevy’s side and she directed them, wiping her sweaty face with the hem of her shirt. 

Once they had placed the second piece of plywood, I realized it was a stage. 

Rye sauntered back over, Peeta trailing a few steps behind. “The Mellark brothers reporting for duty,” Rye intoned, snapping a crisp salute at Leevy, before reaching over and grabbing her ass. 

I glanced over Peeta’s shoulder and saw Madge and Delly standing awkwardly against the wall. I realized they had likely never been in the Hob before. I grabbed the bag of strawberries from the box of supplies and made my way over to them. Leevy hollered over to us that there was no snacking until we finished setting up. Madge peeked it the bag and flashed me a smile before popping a berry in her mouth, winking and miming Leevy cracking a whip. I hadn’t spent much time with Madge since we left school, and it felt good to be with her again. 

Delly let out a girlish giggle before linking her arms through Madge’s and mine, and leading us over to the others. She explained how she’d spread the word about the performance at the knitting circle that morning. Dropping her voice conspiratorially, she added, “Aspen Fairborne was there, which is practically as good as a Caesar Flickerman announcement. I’m sure every girl in town had heard by lunchtime.” I remembered Aspen from school, she was an efficient gossip then too. 

We set about transforming the area. I tried not to watch Peeta as he fixed tables and tossed spare pallets like they weighed nothing. When he stripped off his sweaty button-down shirt to reveal a tight undershirt clinging to this thick, muscular torso, my body clenched so hard I shivered. His arms were mouthwatering. I had spent years fantasizing about his forearms, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, flexing deliciously under a dusting of flour as he kneaded dough with those gigantic hands. Now that I was treated to the sight of the entire length of his arms, thick with muscle, powerful and enticing in equal measure, I knew years of fantasizing about feeling them wrapped around my slight frame lie ahead me. I followed his arms up to his expansive shoulders, the damp cotton of his undershirt clinging to his broad chest and tapering down to his taut stomach. I wanted to reach under that fabric and feel the flex of his muscles. My fingertips itched to trace every inch of him, every glorious ridge and valley.

My meditation on Peeta’s lusciousness was broken by the guys arriving like a herd of elephants from the mine. Gale, Thom, Mica, and Asher came tromping into the back room with their soot-blackened boots and dingy gray coveralls. Their entire bodies looked as though they’d been sprinkled with coal dust. There was a masculine joviality that I’d never witnessed and it made me oddly jealous. Gale had never laughed like that with me, bouncing off his friends like pinballs as they jostled their way into the room. 

“Hey, Catnip,” Gale bounded over and slung a filthy arm around me. I bobbed and weaved like a prizefighter to keep my head from ending up anywhere near his sweaty armpit.

“You stink, Hawthorne!” I scowled at him. He just laughed, trying again to pull me against him as I jumped back. “Gross.”

Leevy was calling the boys over, holding a pile of damp towels to hopefully mop up some of that offensive stench. Gale informed her that Chester wasn’t able to make it after all; his wife had vetoed the idea.

Under Madge’s direction, Peeta and Rye set an old door across a couple of jury-rigged sawhorses to create a passable table. I was wiping it down when Peeta sidled up beside me and picked up a rag to help me.

“So, are you and Gale…” 

He didn’t finish the statement, so I prompted distractedly, “Are we what?”

He cleared his throat, but his voice still came out strained, “Are you… together?”

“What? No! Why would you think that?” I tried, and failed to keep the irritation out of my voice.

“Um, because you’re always together. Because he’s the only person besides Prim that I’ve ever seen you touch.” He looked down at his hands, before adding, “Because he obviously loves you.”

I felt my face heat, but this was too important to ignore. “Not like you’re thinking. He’s my best friend, but we’re not together.” 

As his eyes drifted up to meet mine in a shy smile, I felt a warmth light in my chest. I liked when he looked at me like that. Like I was the only thing he could see. 

“Could I, um,” he put the rag down and faced me, “Katniss, could I take you out sometime? On a date?” I could see the flush creeping up his neck and coloring his cheeks. I wanted to follow its path with my lips. I looked away.

“I… I don’t really go out much.” I answered lamely.

“We can do whatever you want, anything at all. I’d just love the opportunity to spend some time with you.”

“I can’t really think about anything like that until Prim gets better…”

“I understand.” His shoulders slumped and he cast his eyes downwards and I missed the warmth of them immediately. I needed to not screw this up.

“But,” I blurted out too loudly, then dropped my voice self-consciously, “I’d really like that.”

“Yeah?” He asked with adorable hopefulness.

“Yeah.” I answered, feeling like I might burst from the bubble of happiness floating up from my belly and buoying my heart. 

He grinned at me, and as his eyes locked on mine I was lost. It wasn't just the exquisite blueness of his eyes. It was as though they were lit from behind by his soul. With kindness. With hope. With strength. When I looked into those eyes, I felt like everything would be okay. I wanted to share my burden with him because he would help me bear it. I wanted to share my heart with him because he would protect it. He would cradle it in those huge, calloused baker's hands and keep it safe.

And as I looked back and forth between his mesmerizing eyes and his capable hands, I felt something rigid inside me loosen and warm. Something melt.

Before I could do something insane, like tell him every hope and dream of him I had harbored these many years, Greasy Sae startled me by hoisting a large cast iron pot onto the makeshift table while her dreamy, silent granddaughter followed behind with a stack of bowls and spoons. 

As Peeta and I set the table and started ladling out the soup, we couldn’t keep from glancing at each other and exchanging heated looks. I felt ridiculous, I wasn’t an exchanging-heated-looks kind of girl, but every time I felt those sliver-of-sky eyes on me, my entire body would flush with heat. And I couldn’t seem to keep my eyes off him. 

As the smell of dinner wafted through the room, everyone drifted over to eat. Leevy and Delly had done an admirable job getting the boys cleaned up. They were clad in clean undershirts, similar to the one Peeta was wearing, with the long-sleeved upper half of their coal-dusted coveralls tied around their waists. I was surprised to note that this look really set off their muscular arms and shoulders, their sinewy chests tapering down to trim waists. They looked good, but the loose coveralls left enough to the imagination that it was hard not be curious about what lay underneath. I stared intently into my soup, mortified to have caught myself thinking such things about my friends and neighbors. This was most decidedly unlike me and I shot a scowl at Peeta for awakening whatever this was inside of me. 

“I saw that look, Everdeen.” Leevy plopped down in the seat next to me. “They look good enough to eat, right?” she drawled lecherously as she ran a finger down Asher’s muscular arm. “Finish your food, boys, we’ve got to get the choreography dealt with before the doors open in about an hour.” She turned to Delly and Madge, “You two need to get out there and gather up your lady-friends. I assume that, despite their interest being piqued, they’re going to need some blond, blue-eyed escorts. You too, Rye. You know how to wrangle a crowd.” She winked at him and he blew her a kiss.

“Alright, listen up strippers.” Four dark faces turned to her with eyebrows raised. “I know each of you knows your way around a seduction scene. But this is a little different than getting into a girl’s britches. Stripping is all about restraint. It’s about holding something back until your audience is begging for it. It’s a playfully naughty game we play. You’re all going to learn to be teases tonight.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about us, we’ll have these ladies eating out of our hands by the end of the evening.” Thom waggled his eyebrows comically.

“Or with any luck, we’ll have them eating other things.” Mica added, grabbing his crotch suggestively. All of the guys cackled like a flock of hens.

Asher jumped up on the table and began gyrating ridiculously. I dipped my head forward to hide my smile. Peeta slid his chair closer to mine and reached for my hand under the table. Though startled at first, I turned my hand over and he wove our fingers together. His fingers were so long, they brushed against the sensitive skin just above my knee sending a delicious shiver up the inside of my thigh. It felt better than I could have imagined to be touched like this. I realized with startling clarity that I was willing to do whatever I needed to to get more.

Leevy assembled the guys in front of the stage and began coaching them through a series of coordinated dance steps. She called over her shoulder, “C’mon, Peeta, you’re up.”

With a quick squeeze to my hand and another graze of his fingers even further up my thigh as he disengaged our linked fingers, he was up and quietly demonstrating how to gyrate their hips. Despite their collective initial reluctance to learn anything from a town boy, Peeta’s dance moves quickly won them over. He had a way of moving that was alternatingly sinuous and rough, alluring and masculine. I stared at him, admonishing myself not to let my mouth hang open as he punctuated an undulating roll of his hips with a percussive stomp. His movements were captivating and hypnotic. This was a side of him I never could have imagined, and I wanted more. More of his sweetness, and more of this newly-discovered spicy side.

They quickly worked out the basic choreography, who stood where, and how each one would get there while maintaining the allure. Leevy worked out that they’d need to keep their boots on initially, but with the laces loose and no socks on so they could be kicked off. The coveralls ended up being a surprisingly good garment choice for stripping. They started out with them fully on, buttoned up to their chins. They could be slowly undone, revealing the rippling undershirts below. When it was time to lose their pants, they needed to do little more than allow them to drop to the floor. If they kept their feet planted as they gyrated in place, the coveralls would slide down their legs of their own accord, making them relatively easy to step out of. Leevy assured them that she had adequate undergarments for them that they would change into shortly. 

I was so mesmerized by the unfolding show, that I hadn’t noticed people arriving until Madge was there tapping my shoulder, slightly breathless. “Can we start letting them in?” she asked. 

I hollered at Leevy that it was time to move “backstage”. Peeta and Rye had erected a series of blankets and sheets into a fabric walled area behind the stage that would serve as a dressing room. The ladies had also arranged a number of lanterns around the edges and the miner’s hats with their battery-powered headlamps had been set on the tables bordering the stage. I handed Madge the cash box and headed backstage. 

Leevy and Delly were busy artfully applying “dirt” to the guys with burned corks. Even I had to admit they looked really good. Thom was shoving a pair of coveralls into Peeta’s hands as I approached. Peeta was shaking his head, while Thom implored him. “We need you up there with us. We’ll never remember all of the steps and keep the pacing right without you. Don’t let us make fools out of ourselves in front of all of those ladies.“ 

Peeta turned and caught my eye. As much as I despised the very idea of a room full of women, town girls, no less, ogling Peeta, I understood why the other’s felt they needed him. “For Prim?” I asked quietly and he nodded, repeating my words just as quietly. I averted my gaze as he started to strip off his clothes to don the “uniform”. 

“Oh, I don’t care if you see me,” he said teasingly. Then his voice dropped temptingly as he added, “In fact it’s kinda the other reason I’m doing this.” The urge to climb him like a tree and make him mine was almost overwhelming, but acutely aware of the fact that we had an audience, I exclaimed, “I mind!” while placing my hand over my eyes. He laughed, a deep husky sound that I wanted to hear a thousand more times. In order to give myself something to do other than fight the intoxicatingly strong urge to run my hands over every square inch of his skin, I peeked out the curtain. The place was already filled with over a hundred women. All of the tables were crowded and there were women lining the walls. 

As I peered into the sea of blond hair and shrill voices, my stomach twisted with guilt. I felt Gale's large frame move in behind me to look through the gap I'd made. 

"I'm so sorry Gale," I whispered, "this was a horrible idea. You don't have to go through with it, I'll find another way."

"Oh we're doing it. I didn't suffer through Peeta Mellark's dance lesson for nothing. And you know what? I think being objectified by a room full of girls may be just what I need." When I turned to look up at him, there was a cheeky grin on his face that was like finding something you hadn't realized you'd lost. The pinched look around his eyes had softened and he looked more himself than he had in ages.

"I'm afraid they might try to eat you alive," I grimaced up at him.

He puffed out his chest and struck a ridiculously seductive pose, "Go ahead and let them try."

I slipped out from the curtained area to a chorus of nervous masculine banter:

“I feel like Finnick Odair. Someone, get me a trident!” 

“Uh, don’t quit your day job.”

“I’m more than a pretty face and flawless body.”

I chuckled to myself and vowed to find a way to repay their kindness.

Ripper had set up a table near the entrance and most of the women I could see through the crack in the curtain appeared to be holding a glass of some sort. And based on the rapidly increasing volume of their laughter, shouts and catcalls, it was time to get started. Leevy and Madge went around turning on all of the headlamps, angling them so they illuminated the stage. Between this light and the lanterns draped with the gauzy silks, and Ripper’s contribution, the place had been transformed into a romantically lit bacchanal. 

Musicians that I hadn’t seen arrive began to play, and the crowd quieted, turning their attention towards the low stage. As the deep, heavy notes of a washtub bass and resonant drum thrummed through the room, I couldn’t quell the nervous butterflies of anticipation that fluttering madly in my stomach.

Leevy handed me the bottle of wine. Though I wasn’t much of a drinker under normal circumstances (who could afford to drink alcohol when I had a family to take care of), I gratefully accepted the bottle and began gulping down large swallows of wine. As it settled in my belly, I felt the foreign, but delicious warmth of it spread through my limbs and up into my cheeks.

The guys shuffled out onto the stage and took their places. The crowd of women erupted into raucous catcalls of lustful appreciation. The whoops and hollers unsettle me. With the exception of the holding pens at the Reaping each year, I had never seen a group of women this large. And this festive atmosphere was about as antithetical to the Reaping as you could get. These women were seriously enjoying themselves. The sight of these beautiful men, standing stock-still, displayed before them for their entertainment was intoxicating. 

And then the boys began to move.

It was subtle at first; a slow sway punctuated by the hollow sound of their bootheels hitting the stage as they marked the beat. Then their arms came up in a resonant clap and their heads snapped up, illuminating their faces. The place went wild. 

“Here we go!” Leevy’s eyes were lit with excitement and I understood what a complete disaster I would have been as a stripper. Every aspect of this made me want to crawl under a rock. I was so grateful not to be the one on that stage, receiving this overwhelmingly appreciative attention.

Peeta caught my eye just as he stripped the second sleeve from his mouthwatering arm. He was all I could see as he licked his lips, glancing down shyly as he slid the sleeve from his thick shoulder. He held my eyes as he slowly pushed the hem of his tank top up, exposing a few inches of honey-gold skin and muscular stomach before he spun away and stomped a few steps back. When he reached behind his head and pulled the top over his head, the sight of his rippling back made my knees weak. When he threw me a smile over his now bare shoulder, I realized that he knew exactly what he was doing to me. Sweet, lovely Peeta knew how to put on a show. I was shocked, bewildered, and impossibly turned on.

As he toed off his boots, he rocked his hips back to pull the loose fabric tight over his ass and upper thighs, and as he stood up straight, the loose coveralls dipped low to show the cut of his hips. Still with his back to the audience, he slipped his thumbs into the cinched fabric and began to shimmy it down the over the swell of his ass all set to the delighted cheers and whistles of the women, many of whom were now on their feet.

When he turned around, he was standing in a pair of snug boxers. I tried and failed to keep my eyes from traversing the bulge at the front. It was impressive and my breath caught as I was able to mentally draw the outline of his thick cock. The thrill of arousal ricocheted through me, making me weak from the force of my desire.

All five guys made their way off the stage and began to circulate around the room, stopping at tables to dance and tease at closer range. Women began holding coins above their heads in a bid for the guys attention and with nowhere to put them, the guys hands were filling with coins. Leevy swooped in with a small satchel and unobtrusively gathered the coins. She really had thought of everything.

As I watched women crying out to Peeta and brandishing their coins in invitation, a wave of white-hot fury nearly choked me at the knowledge that these other women got to see him. That they were experiencing the exquisite unveiling of every inch of his flesh right alongside me. And as I watched their greedy hands caress and grab at him, I knew with absolute certainty that I wanted him all to myself. I wanted his eyes, his mouth, his skin and his cock. I wanted his smile and his laugh and his moans of desire. I wanted every bit of him, and I wasn’t willing to share.

As the boys made their way back to the stage amidst a frenzy shrieks and whistles, I was so relieved that those horrible women had stopped touching him. I had to keep them from ever touching him again. His eyes found mine again as he toyed with the waistband of his boxers. Oh my goodness, he was the worst, most tantalizing tease. I vowed to get Leevy to teach me some of her secrets so I could make him ache like this. The throbbing between my legs was becoming more persistent the longer he held eye contact with me. I was too hot and felt half-crazed. I needed to touch him soon or I would die.

With a ridiculously dramatic drumroll, the guys glanced around and nodded at each other. Then they all dropped the last shred of fabric that covered them from our libidinous stares. The room erupted in screams and applause. Each of those five men was standing there in all their naked glory, hands planted on their sculpted hips, heads thrown back in laughter. Rather than obscene, they looked perfect -- like this was how they were always meant to be, unencumbered with silly social trappings like clothes. They high fived each other, scooped up their clothes and made their way off the stage to thunderous appreciation. I watched Peeta as he slipped the coveralls on over his nakedness, tying the sleeves at his waist. And I hated that any part of him was hidden from me.

Peeta made his way to me through a knot of admirers. He walked towards me slowly, like he was unsure what sort of reception he would receive. A shy smile danced in his eyes and toyed at the corner of his mouth. It was all too much. The golden expanse of his bare chest glistening with sweat as stood in front of me still breathing hard. The heat of the room combined with the warmth of the wine infusing my limbs was making me feel faint. There was a nearly tangible sensual vibe in the room, and it settled over us like a layer of smoke, thick and oppressive. My body felt heavy with want, hollow with need. The constant buzz of arousal I’d felt all day finally overwhelmed me and I grabbed his hand, pulling him behind the curtain of the makeshift dressing room, then further behind the rack of clothes.

My heart was fluttering like a hummingbird trapped in the rafters as I turned to face him. I was immensely thankful that the light filtering through the various fabrics made it as much shadow as light. I was afraid that I must look deranged with desire. I certainly felt that way. 

I pushed him him against the only solid wall in our small enclosed space. I had to ride this wave of brazen courage or I’d never have the guts to make him understand how I felt about him. 

“You did an incredible job out there. I just have a couple of suggestions for you.” He nodded, looking confused, but hopeful. I took a deep breath of lust-heavy air and kicked off my boots before quickly shedding my pants and pulling my tunic up and over my head. I was left standing in the neglige. His eyes were so wide, it was nearly comical. I bit my lower lip and pulling the twine from the end of my braid and shaking hair out into long, cascading waves. He made a small noise in the back of his throat as my hips began to sway.

“Katniss, you might actually kill me.” He ground out sounding like he was actually in pain. He was slightly slumped against the wall, making us nearly face to face as we stood with our bare toes touching. My knees felt weak again and I figured I could save the teasing for another night. Instead, I ran my hands up his bare chest, as we stared at each other, our eyes glazed with want.

“I need to…,” I huffed out a frustrated breath; I sounded deranged too. I tried again, “I mean, can I kiss you?” 

He made an incredulous noise, “Yes! For the love of all that is holy -- please!” The way he was looking at me, like it all took all of his considerable strength to stand there and wait for me to act made me feel like I wasn’t the only one battling insanity. 

I wrapped my arms about his sweaty neck, levered up on my toes and tentatively brushed my lips against his. This wasn’t my first kiss, but the others had always been done out of curiosity or a fear of rejecting someone too harshly. I had always felt embarrassed and been acutely aware of their breath, their stubble, the developing crink in my neck at being held at an uncomfortable angle. Nothing had ever felt like this. Like I would literally burst into flames if I didn’t lick every square inch of his skin. I started with his plump bottom lip, gently running my tongue along it. 

He gasped in response and it broke whatever spell had been holding him still. He wrapped those glorious hands around my hips and hoisted me onto the three-legged table leaning on the wall behind us. The kiss had been disorienting enough, the feeling of my feet leaving the floor had me clinging to him. As I wrapped my legs around his hips he groaned into my mouth and I felt the rough sound reverberate through me to my very core. 

I began placing open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, down the slope of his neck. I tasted salt and cinnamon and man. It was more intoxicating than the wine.

“Oh, Katniss,” he rasped, “I’ve always wanted this. I’ve always wanted you like this.” His words were making me dizzy. I sucked his earlobe into my mouth and he moaned, rutting against my center. The jagged pleasure that ripped through me made me cry out and he pulled away so he could see my face, fear written in every line around his eyes. 

“Please, Peeta,” I whispered hoarsely, “please do that again.” 

He closed his eyes and swallowed audibly, looking as if he was in acute pain. I uncrossed my ankles from over his ass to scoot back, afraid I’d done something wrong. His eyes flew open and I was sucked into the swirling abyss of their blueness, lost at sea. He grasped my thighs in both hands and pulled me back against him. I rolled my hips experimentally and gasped when I pressed just right against his hardness. That’s when I understood what felt so solid and so good. His jutting erection was for me. I couldn’t keep the wonder from my face as I smiled up at him.

“That, um,” my voice was so thick with lust, I cleared my throat and tried again. “That feels really good.”

“Yeah?” he quirked a corner of his mouth up in a sexy, sweet, cocky smile as he pushed against me, still gripping my thighs almost too tightly. I couldn’t suppress my moan as he reached his hand behind his back to grasp my ankles, securing them against the small of his back, then slid a hand behind me to cup my ass. That change in angle did wonderful things to me, and I rode a prolonged wave of pleasure as I slid along the entire rigid length of him.

“Oh,” I breathed, biting down hard on my lip to keep the pleasure from overwhelming me.

“Could you?” He asked, incredulous, “Could you come like this?”

“Yeah,” I panted, not sure there was an alternative at this point. My body was pulsing in need for him. Warning bells were blaring somewhere deep in my subconscious. I knew how reckless it was to allow myself to feel this way about him. He could never be mine and I was starting to realize that I couldn’t have him like this once and live without him forever. I willfully pushed the thought to the back of my mind and gave myself over to the delicious sensations coursing through my body. I began writhing shamelessly against him.

I was strung as tight as my bow string and as I imagined letting an arrow fly into a sky as blue as his eyes, I felt my orgasm surge through me. My entire body shook as the waves of pure bliss peaked, and I bit down on my hand to muffle the hoarse broken sound that escaped me. I was utterly wrecked by this man.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” Peeta gasped and the dirty word was made decadent by his beautiful mouth. 

His nostrils flared and his jaw clenched tight as he tipped his head back, breathing hard. When he had mastered himself he wrapped one of those incredible hands around my face and met my eyes. “You are so fucking gorgeous when you come. More beautiful than I ever imagined. And trust me, I’ve imagined it a lot.” He grinned at me, eyes positively dancing. He laid me back on the table and growled, “I have to see it again.”

“Peeta, I can’t! I just-” I started to laugh, but then his hands were pushing the satiny neglige up my thighs and he was kissing his way down my neck and over my breasts, biting each hardened nipple softly as he descended. I was far too exposed, this was ridiculous I had to put a stop to it. I reached down to tap his shoulder to tell him to stop but then I felt his hot, wet tongue press against my clit and I lost the ability to use words. It felt like nothing else I’d ever experienced. Coming was the result of pressure and friction not butterfly wings and rain. But that’s what it felt like as his soft tongue made gentle circles around my clit. I was positively aching for him again, teetering on the edge of sanity. 

He pulled away and I wanted to scream, to fight whatever had disrupted that incredible feeling. I pulled my head up looking down the plane of my stomach to catch his eyes. They were so dark with longing, the blue had nearly been swallowed by black. He watched my face intently as he slid first one, then a second finger inside me. Though they slipped in easily, they felt too full, stretching me uncomfortably. He adjusted his hand and began to move his fingers inside me. 

“Oh,” I moaned, this new sensation causing me to writhe wantonly to increase the pressure of his fingers. And as I watched he licked his lips and then touched the very tip of his tongue to my clit. I thought I would die from the pleasure, from the sight of him, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, doing this to me. I dropped my head back against the table with a dull thunk as I exhaled a long shuddering breath. 

He began to lick faster and harder, twisting and stroking me inside and and out until I couldn’t even feel my body. I spiraled into a universe of tortuous pleasure as I came and came and came.

When I regained conscious thought I opened my eyes to see him propped above me looking torn between concern and cocky satisfaction. “Good?” he asked.

“Amazing,” I sighed, sliding bonelessly off the table onto my knees before him. “Let me show you how good.”

I eased his coveralls down and his unbelievably hard cock sprung free and slapped against his hard stomach. He was still leaning over, gripping the edge of the table, staring down into my eyes. Without breaking eye contact I licked him from balls to tip, eliciting the most delicious broken sounds from deep in his throat. 

“I can’t--... l won’t be able--....” I sucked the head of his cock into my mouth and he shuddered so hard I thought his knees would give out. “Oh, fuck, Katniss, you feel like heaven!” Emboldened by his rasped out words, I ran my tongue down his shaft as I sucked as much of him as I could, my hand stroking what I couldn’t fit. He groaned and pulled out of my mouth with a wet pop. He managed to get one hand between my face and the head of his dick as he exploded in jets of come.

He collapsed onto the floor next to me, pulling me down on top of him. I sprawled across the broad expanse of his chest, his stomach still clenching with the aftershocks of his orgasm. I could feel the echo of his heartbeat reverberating through my own body. If I had thought that my manic need for him was dangerous before, I had been mistaken. This was was the feeling I couldn’t live without. My stomach dropped as I realized I would never take a full breath again without his arms around me. I had endured starvation before, but this was an entirely new kind. 

I heard Madge’s voice through the curtain, asking if I was in there. I called back that I’d be be out in a minute and heard her footsteps retreat. As much as I absolutely hated that this needed to end, that Peeta would get up and get dressed and go back to his home above the bakery to a life that couldn’t realistically include me, I needed to get home too. The crushing weight of this reality threatened to steal the breath from my lungs, but I pushed the panic down and stood up. 

I pulled my pants and boots on as Peeta shed the miner’s garb for his real-life clothes. A sob caught in my throat as he caught me around the waist from behind and planted a kiss on my still bare shoulder. There were no two ways about it, I needed to feel his mouth against my skin again.

We made our way back into the main room. Most of the women had dissipated, but several were still lingering around the edges and Gale was sitting at one of the tables with a girl on each knee, his long fingers wrapped in their corn-silk hair, and another draped over his shoulder sucking on his neck. My concern about them eating him alive wasn’t that far off mark. He didn’t look like he minded too much. I supposed death by town girl wasn’t such a bad way to go. 

I was still fighting my way out of my dreamy, post-orgasmic haze as Leevy sauntered over and placed the satchel bulging with coin into my palm. She looked like the cat who had swallowed the canary as she happily stated, “Eighty-six coins is your cut.” I sputtered that I didn’t need that much as she handed Peeta handful of coins. She shook her head and said that everyone had gotten their cut and the rest was mine. 

Peeta called over to Rye that he was going to walk me home. 

Jingling the coins in his pocket, Mica called out, "We might need to plan a revival around the Harvest Festival. What do you think?"

"I dunno," Gale responded, tipping his chin towards Peeta, "you have any more of those fancy dance moves, Mellark?" 

Peeta raised an eyebrow and grabbed Gale's olive branch, "I might have a few." He winked at me and my heart skipped a beat. Damn. He had my number and he knew it.

As we rounded the corner of the Hob, I saw Haymitch Abernathy leaning against the side of the building. He slurred out, “Now that’s what I call using your head, Sweetheart.” He held up his flask in salute. I shot him a grin as I passed him.

“What was that about?” Peeta asked, lacing his fingers through mine. 

“Just some advice he gave me once,” I murmured. The warmth and weight of his hand in mine was one of best feelings I could have ever imagined. Considering the experiences we had shared over the past day, it seemed such an insignificant gesture, but in this moment, there was nothing I wanted more than for us to hold on to each other forever. 

We wound our way through the Seam towards my house. It felt as though the closer we got to home, the less believable the events of the night became, already fading into a storied memory. As we arrived at my door, Peeta placed a feather soft kiss against my lips and I wanted a thousand more just like it. But standing on my porch, with Prim fighting for breath not twenty feet away, the impossibility of this working out between us loomed up before me. 

“Don’t do that,” Peeta admonished softly. “Don’t try to pull away from me.”

“Peeta,” I began, he didn’t need to make this any harder than it already was.

He cut me off, his voice full of unwavering conviction. “I’m just warning you now, I’m never letting you go. Not unless you can convince me this isn’t what you want.”

“It’s not that.” He had to understand this, “But you know this will never work. Not here.” I looked down, not wanting to see even a hint of hurt in his eyes.

But when he tipped my chin up, his eyes were alight with unadulterated hope. “Then you and I will change the rules. I would literally do anything to be with you.” The intensity in his eyes stole my breath away. I leaned in and gave him a kiss that I hoped conveyed that I knew exactly how he felt. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said matter of factly before he stepped off my porch and into the night.

I tiptoed inside placing the fat purse on the kitchen table. Tomorrow I would be able to assure my mother that I had been able to raise the funds without doing any of the things she feared for me. I looked forward to seeing that particular pain leave her eyes. As I quietly undressed I heard Prim’s hoarse whisper in the darkness of the room. 

“Katniss? Are you okay?” I sat on the edge of the bed and felt her forehead, it seemed to be a little bit cooler.

“I’m fine, little duck. The question is, how are you?” I was terrified of the answer, but so grateful to hear her voice. 

“I’ve been better, “ she laughed, which morphed into a wracking cough. When it subsided, she added, “But my professional opinion is that I’m going to pull through.”

The elation that welled up in my heart, threatened to split my chest wide open. I was smiling so big you could hear it in my voice as I laid down beside her. “In that case, I have a story for you.” I unspooled the events of the last twenty-four hours like the fairytale they were. When I got to the part where Peeta kissed me goodnight, she sighed and said, “Finally. You’re finally going to let yourself love Peeta Mellark.”

I stared at her, eyes bright in the moonlight and said, “I guess you’re just going to have to stick around to see what happens next.”

The following day, when I stepped out the front door to go collect Prim’s medicine from the train, Peeta was leaning against the porch post, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, those delicious forearms on full display. And when he held out his hand to me, warm smile daring me to try to resist, I grasped it in both of mine.


End file.
